


Dream A Little Dream of Me

by osier



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 2am final product, F/M, Fever Dreams, i am confused, i dont know what im doing, is this fluff, just trying to channel my love for these dummies in love, post-adwd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-05 11:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20488094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osier/pseuds/osier
Summary: "Remember when I said I dreamed of you?"She let out a short 'hm' in response. "I asked why you came back for me.""I really did, though. I dreamed of you. Of us."--A post-ADWD ficlet of Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth having a confession session about their fever dreams.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt ever on writing a fic (in a language that isn't my mother tongue!). It's been fun because I love these characters so much. Hope you enjoy it!

"We'll go on at first light." Brienne of Tarth lowered herself to the ground and leaned against a tree, legs stretched forward. Ser Jaime Lannister, her only companion, was busy tying up and settling Honor and her mare. They had been riding restlessly through the deep woods of the Riverlands until the last ray of sunshine finally disappeared. And now here they were, alone in the dark wilderness, icy winds prickling their bones. 

_ Winter has indeed come, _she thought. She had seen a couple of white ravens dancing in the pale grey sky the other day, on the way to spreading the news all over the seven kingdoms. But still, it felt surreal to her now that the long winter everyone had been anticipating had finally begun. She hugged her knees, holding her gloved hands tightly together to drive away the twinging cold.

"Go ahead, My Lady. I'll take the first watch. Try not to die freezing in your sleep." the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard put down a bedroll and a thin blanket beside her. Tripping clumsily in the dark, he went to his spot under some tree eight feet opposite her, dropping his own bedroll and blanket to the ground with a small thump noise. The moonlight was not enough help to see in such darkness, he might have already sat underneath the tree by now. She could hear his breath in the deadly silence; slow and steady, with a sheer hint of a shiver.

"I'm taking the first watch." Brienne searched for his eyes in the dark to no result, still hugging her knees, ignoring the bedroll and blanket.

"No. You need to rest. You're shivering--though I can barely see you, I hear your breath, struggling to hold it together. Unroll the bed, wear the blanket, and close your eyes." his low, raspy voice took over the silence. _ He’s the one who needs to rest _.

"I'm perfectly alright, let me-"

"Go to sleep." he said it with such firmness that Brienne herself found impossible to refute. "I find the quest has made the stubborn wench I know become more stubborn than ever now."

_ That 'wench' again. _Brienne closed her eyes, took a deep breath, collected her patience and slowly said, "My name is Brienne."

"I know very well," he chuckled. "I have become very accustomed to refer you to that word. With no ill means at all, though."

_ He would provoke me to anger one way or another, just like he always did. _ She lay down on the bedroll and pulled the blanket until it reached her chin, trying to close her eyes and failed. It did not make any difference whether her eyes were open or closed, she could not see anything. The leaves whispered in the blows of the freezing wind, along with the sound of their breaths, both with faint shivers now. Her hand traced the edge of the bedroll, the exceptional cold left her an uneasy feeling. A pebble was nearby and she grabbed it and started fidgeting with it. "I can hear you shiver too. Try not to catch a cold," she finally heard herself say.

"Cold," he scoffed. "I've had even worse. Endless fever. Remember our previous adventure when I lost the hand that made me Kingslayer?" She could hear some sound of metal against the gravel on the ground. "The fever stayed for what felt like forever. Much worse than any cold. The worst of all, to be frank. So bad it was impossible to sleep. If you did, you'd only end up having nightmares."

_ Fever dreams _. She had her fair share of this matter, apparently. Biter, the savage creature; her torn cheek, those nights in the cave, her dreams during those painful moments… She shuddered to those awful memories, rolling the little rock in her hands. “Those fever dreams. As if your actual pain isn’t painful enough.”

Silence fell for a moment. _ He must feel bad about me _ . After telling him what the wound on her cheek was about, she felt like he had slightly changed. There had been something different in the way he interacted with her. More carefully, almost more _ gently _. Now that she thought about it, he hadn't made her lose her temper during their journey together these past couple of days, except for that one small argument they had just had. Chaos seemed to be his nature after all.

"You… Did you also… What was it about? Your fever dream?" he asked very softly it was almost a whisper.

A few seconds passed with that dream flashed in her mind. Renly. Red Ronnet, her former betrothed. Both had vanished and had become the very Jaime Lannister, whom had also disappeared in the end. _ Jaime! Come back for me! _She heard her own voice inside her head. Helpless, desperate. The fear of failing him. The fear of losing him...

"Never mind, you don't have to answer that. This curious mind needs to be controlled anyway, otherwise I'll end up putting my nose on anything I see." Jaime said calmly.

Brienne anxiously kept playing with the pebble in her hand for another moment of silence when finally the Lord Commander asked, "Remember when I said I dreamed of you?" 

She let out a short 'hm' in response. "I asked why you came back for me."

"I really did, though. I dreamed of you. Of us."

The pause was longer this time. She didn't know what to say. Instead, she was drowning in her own thoughts. _ What sort of dream could it have been? Must have been an awful one, fever dreams are always terrible. _A dozen similar questions came to mind, but she dared not speak them.

"It was a complicated dream. A very strange one. You- you and I…" he started to elaborate, though hesitantly, "We held these swords… Flaming swords that shone through the darkness. There were people as well, and you also mentioned something about bear. But we…" he sounded desperate to be putting it into words. He let out a deep, frustrated sigh. "It's almost impossible describing that dream. I'll keep the rest to myself. What I'm telling you is that it was about you and me. My fever dream. It led me to going back to Harrenhal to get you."

It didn't necessarily sound intense or intimate whatsoever, but Brienne felt a rush of heat to her cheeks. The way he told it, though. He was confused, doubtful, but he meant every word. _ He dreamed of me _ . _ He followed his fever dream, and he saved me _ . _ Should I tell him mine? _ He’d told her his, although partially, and she appreciated it. Hearing him say _ ‘I dreamed of you’ _ back then had been quite a surprise to her. And now that she knew it had been about _ them _ and swords had also been involved… She was intrigued. _ Was it an ill omen? Is something bad going to happen to us? _

Jaime had been on her mind all this time, no matter how badly she wanted to deny it. Either consciously or subconsciously, thoughts of him had always come and gone. A few times she had even wished he had been there with her, to fight beside her, to comfort her should she fail finding Sansa Stark. Her fever dream was about _ him _, for gods' sake. About her fear and anxiety and the idea of losing more than she’d already lost, losing him forever...

She tightly grasped the little rock, her doubt grew smaller and smaller somehow. _ It’s fine to let him know. I would like him to know. _She sat up slowly, throwing the pebble lightly aside. She took her time and finally opened her mouth and said, “My fever dream… You were in there.”

One, two, three seconds of clutching together her courage, she continued, “I may not be able to explain it half as well as you did, but… You were in the dream, walking away, and I called you to- to come back. I dreamed I lost you,” She didn’t know what else to say; words had evaporated from her head, and this is frankly one of the hardest things she had ever done. _ Should I tell the full story? Should I also tell I called his name in my sleep? No. Too much, it will be too much. One step at a time. _ The quietness was deafening. She closed her eyes, waited and waited for his response. _ Say something, say something, please… _

"Well, it didn't come true, then," he finally said, and she opened her eyes. "You're not losing me. I'm here, _ wench _ ." He said the last word with such emphasis and she could almost hear him smile. She knew he said it without ill purpose, so she let him. _ Only this time, though _. Her lips slowly made a small curve, shaping a thin yet sincere smile, for the first time in a while. She was glad they were in proper darkness, otherwise he would notice and tease her for the next few days.

She didn't mind the quiet woods now, even her shiver was gone. The darkness comforted her, embracing her like an old friend. She felt… _ light _ , as if a heavy burden had been removed from her chest, her breath a bit deeper. She didn't know it would bring her such relief to eventually tell him she had suffered, she had been afraid, she had dreamed of him _ too _ . _ Maybe I've always wanted to tell him, I just never found out when and where and how _.

Jaime made a noise, it sounded like he changed his sitting position or something. Then he softly clapped his hand to the ground and said, "Alright, end of confession. It's past time you went to sleep. Better sleep well now that you've spat it out. Or maybe you'd like to elaborate some more in the morning?"

She lay herself on the bedroll again and gave a faint chuckle. "Maybe _ you _ would like to tell more in the morning."

"Just to be fair, I suggest we tell each other a bit more about these strange fever experiences when the sun rises. Now sleep, Lady Brienne. It's been a long and tiring journey. And oh," he added, "you might as well dream of me tonight."

Brienne didn't answer, closing her eyes tightly. Another heat was creeping up her cheeks and she tried hard to fight it by taking deep breaths. _ I will not try, but if it's you in my dream, then it is _. Once again, she felt her lips curved a small smile.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime Lannister acknowledged something he'd never felt before, and decided to just go for it. However...

A few hours passed and Jaime was engulfed by the frosty cold, putting his blanket around his shoulders. His surroundings looked slightly brighter now that the moonlight descended through the leaves on the tips of trees. Stillness and solitude didn’t bother him at all, he wasn’t new to them anyway. Nevertheless, his thoughts were too loud after spending time by himself for quite a while now, producing bubbles of questions he attempted to answer.  _ Our souls know each other too well, don't they? Fever dreams, for gods' sake _ . Not going to lie, his mind had gone to the Maid of Tarth more frequently than he could remember. Unbiddenly, he'd wondered where she had been, how she had been doing, worrying about her safety. Being with her together again felt nostalgic, like a delightful childhood memory he didn't realise he treasured.

A rustling noise of dried leaves opposite followed by a soft grunt brought him back to reality. “Ser Jaime?” 

He found her in the moonlight, slowly sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “Sleep well, My Lady? I hope the blanket helped. It’s freezing.”

“It did, thank you. Now it’s my turn; please take a rest.”

He meant to respond with a short ‘hm’, but let out some kind of muttered trembling instead. The cold he felt was getting ridiculous at this point.

He saw her frown, tilting her head before asking, “Are you alright there? You sound terrible...”

“Of course I am, don’t mind me. It’s just… Gods, aren’t you cold?”

“Not as much as I was. Jaime, are you-” she leaned forward and with a dead-serious tone, she said, “You’ve caught a cold. I told you not to, didn’t I? Here, take my blanket.” She grabbed her blanket, stood up and walked across to where he was.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll turn into an ice statue in the morning.” he murmured stubbornly as she was sitting down next to him.

“You’re catching a cold, that’s why you’re shivering and I’m not. Now stop talking,” she wrapped her arms around his shoulders to layer her blanket on top of his own, “and try to get some sleep. You’re exhausted.”

He curled himself up into a ball, face buried in his knees. “We need to get ourselves those bloody Northern furs,” he grumbled, “Riverlands, yet it feels like we’re beyond the bloody Wall.”

“Speak for yourself,” she said flatly, and he chuckled.

A long pause, and then he felt a gentle touch caressing his now bristly golden curls. It was calming, and for a moment he forgot he was shivering. This was a familiar feeling, a comfort he didn’t know he’d missed. The bathhouse at Harrenhal came to mind; a faint memory of how she’d held him when he'd collapsed in her arms, firmly yet with such tenderness… 

He looked up and found her astonishingly blue eyes, glimmering in the moonlight.  _ And I wonder why my mind won’t shut up about her eyes _ . They widened when she realised what she’d been doing, instantly pulling her hand back.  It was an awkward moment and Jaime didn't know what to do. He didn't mind what she'd done at all, but decided that it would be a silly thing to say, so he remained silent, still keeping the eye contact.  _ It isn't hard to get lost in those eyes. Damn, here I go again _ . 

In the middle of confusion of not knowing how to handle this sort of circumstance, he noticed that there was almost no distance between them, only a few inches apart. A funny feeling in his heart urged him to break down the invisible barrier. Staring hopelessly at her eyes, he blinked and diverted his gaze, scanning her face up and down, stopping at her lips, his body subconsciously and slowly closing the distance between them.  _ What am I doing?  _ His mind kept asking anxiously, but the most peculiar thing was that his heart was at ease at the very moment, as if being this close to her was the right thing to do. 

However, the last bit of his panic mind stubbornly tried to hold back.  _ She is an honourable lady I hold in high regard, a figure every knight aspires to be, an innocent and honest person I put my trust in, and I will not- _

He pressed his lips softly on hers and closed his eyes. 

Right afterwards, he was sure she gestured a smallest hint of flinch.  _ She’s surprised. We both are. _ A stream of mixed feelings struck him: thrill, calmness, worry, ease. The warmth of her lips melted down the cold surrounding him. With his eyes closed, he could almost see sapphire blue sea sparkling in the summer sun, the same exact colour of her eyes...

As his heart pounded, he gathered up the remains of courage he had, raising his good hand carefully to cup her cheek. He could feel her previously tense body start to relax. Just when he thought he couldn’t get any more surprised, he sensed her lips gently move, kissing him back. It was a slow, tender kiss, and Jaime lived every second of it with less and less upheaval.  _ There is no reason not to treasure this moment. _

When they finally pulled apart, he kept himself close, resting his forehead on hers, their noses touching. Brienne let out a sigh, and he felt goosebumps creeping up his skin when her warm breath brushed against his cheek. A moment passed with them holding the same position, breathing the same air. Still keeping his eyes closed, he felt a small smile appeared on his lips. A few seconds later he heard her whisper his name.

“Jaime,”

_ That voice _ . The name sounded more beautiful when she said it. He wanted to call her by her name too, but no matter how hard he tried, his voice wouldn’t come out.

“Jaime,” she repeated. Again, he failed to answer.

“Jaime,”

He opened his eyes.

“Jaime,”

The sky was dark blue with a smear of light purple. The sound of chirping birds was too loud it hurt his head, along with the overwhelming confusion going on inside his brain. Then he finally figured it out; he was lying on his back, and Lady Brienne of Tarth was kneeling beside him.

“Ser Jaime? Are you awake?” asked the woman he had just kissed.

Except he had not.

He sighed.  _ A. Fucking. Dream. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I dream of something so real that I think of it as reality until my family and friends say 'I don't think it ever happened' and I'm like... Oof.  
It made me think of this fic, and I thought I might as well...  
Thank you for reading! Have a nice day/night :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this fic! Sorry for the grammatical errors here and there--I'm working on it, don't worry! Hope you had a good time reading this :)


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